Tide
by Katotoro
Summary: Most days, it was easy for him to hate Harley. Some days, it hurt to look at her. A Joker/Harley fanfiction.
1. Prelude

The Dark Knight and all its contents are the copyright of the Nolan Brothers and Warner Bros. I own nothing.

**Tide**

* * *

Prelude: Harley's P.O.V.

"We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves." -- Lynn Hall

* * *

The year I was fifteen, summer was late. During that time the air always smelled of berries and pine and sea, but a week after my mother died, July came abruptly. It was fire season. The air became both stagnant and febrile. I would sometimes sit on the roof of my grandmother's house and watch the fires light up the night sky.

That was more than seven years ago, but sometimes, when I lay awake in bed at night, that same ashy scent permeates my room: A suffocating smell, a gritty smell; a scent that burns my eyes and throat and leaves me gasping for better air.

The smell always reminds me of him. Coffee grounds, cigarette ashes, spice. I can smell all of those things and be reminded of him. I remember when he used to stand over the kitchen sink and scrub, scrub, scrub at his clothes, but the smells must have become a part of the fabric because the scent never changed. Yet the smells were always comforting to me, because _they meant he was home. With me. With all of us, just like one big family. _

I had known him for so long that I sometimes forgot there was a time when we didn't. I met him in a bar on my seventeenth birthday, getting in only because my friends found me a fake ID. I tried my hardest to act grown up but failed miserably at it. I know he noticed; I could tell by the way he looked at me and laughed. But then he pushed a beer my way and the world shifted a little.

Looking back on it now, I realize that that was the moment when my life changed forever. In that instant, when I first laid eyes on him.

He was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. Big brown eyes, almost like honey. A perfect smile. He was tall and lean like an athlete, with broad shoulders and long legs. His tawny hair - Beautiful, soft, ashy hair- fell in soft curls a couple of inches above his shoulders. I remember when he used to tie it in a small stub at the base of his neck. A few hairs would escape regardless, but it helped when he was bent over a pad of paper, as he so often was, writing down all of his thoughts and ideas and _plans_. His beautiful plans. He had notebooks full of 'em.

It took me months to realize that he had freckles, but when I looked closely at the faded spots placed thinly across his nose and forehead, my stomach would do flip-flops. But that was a secret meant only for myself. A secret that I kept hidden away within my heart.

Against my grandmother's wishes, I moved in with him and his friends once I turned eighteen. There were five of us. Jack, Eddy, Tyler, Noah, and their little Harley Quinn. We were family, and for once I felt like I actually belonged. They welcomed me into their home with open arms.

My life began again with them. With those boys, the world is always new. Before history and war, new.

With them I was just an American girl, clean and healthy as a baby. I'd never felt so loved, so cherished, before.

At night they would go out and make money. I never knew how, but I never asked questions because in my mind _they could do no wrong_. They gave me cash for school and clothing and food, and for that I will be forever thankful. I had a job too of course, but I never made money like they did. They always seemed to have a constant flow of cash coming in, whereas I would have barely gotten by if it weren't for them, getting paid minimum wage for hard work. They told me that I didn't have to work anymore, but I wanted to feel important. I wanted so badly to support them as they had so lovingly supported me.

But real happiness never lasts forever, and my life is a true testament to that fact.

I remember coming home one night to an empty house. I searched and searched, but no one was home. I sat and watched TV for an hour, lazily flipping through channels until I heard the front door click open and slam shut. It was Jack who walked inside, but he didn't even look at me as he stomped up the stairs, the heels of his shoes clattering against the wood flooring like castanets. I followed him as he pushed through heavy doors that opened up to the roof of our apartment. It was cold that night, but he threw off his coat and sat himself down on the grey stucco flooring. When I sat beside him, he turned to look at me. His eyes were sad and regretful, but there were no tears. There were never tears.

"Tyler's gone," He said. "I screwed up real bad. I really screwed up." He raised his eyes towards the stars, his face hard to read.

I stared at him, studying his profile. "Screwed up how?"

He began ranting, fast and incoherent. "Tommy sold us the Blow, we had no idea that it was bad, and Tyler sold it to fucking Sam Rizzo. Rizzo's brother is dead, Harley, and now they're out for blood. We're not safe here anymore."

I could hardly keep up with what he was saying, yet I knew. I knew what he was trying to say to me, _I knew_, but I didn't want to listen.

"Please don't go, Jack."

"You're not safe around us, Harley. We can be together again when all of this blows over, but not now. We need to lay low for a while."

I sat with my arms pressed around my shins, my forehead on my knees and my eyes closed. "I don't want to be alone," I said.

I knew he was watching me, but I kept my eyes closed. It was cold. I struggled to control my crying as I sat hunched, hugging my legs, my tears wetting the dark fabric of my jeans. I couldn't stop it. I was still crying as he scooted closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders, the skin of his arm warm against my neck as he held me close.

We stayed like that for a long time. He placed his hand on mine and brushed his thumb back and forth across my skin. It was the first time in my life that I ever felt so real, so right, with anyone.


	2. Falling

The Dark Knight and all its contents are the copyright of the Nolan Brothers and Warner Bros. I own nothing.

**Tide**

* * *

Chapter 2.

"It's better to be good than evil, but one achieves goodness at a terrific cost." -Stephen King

* * *

It was getting late, but Harley couldn't sleep. The blue light emanating from her television filled up her small apartment and hypnotized her, making her eyes grow heavier and heavier, but still she would not sleep. Whenever she felt herself begin to drift off, she experienced a sensation of falling that would jolt her back to life. As a child she'd often have dreams of falling, especially after her mother died. Nowadays, it was only the sensation of falling before sleep. She didn't dream anymore.

Harley got up from the comfort and warmth of her couch and headed for the kitchen, almost tripping over her cat as she went. She steadied herself by gripping the counter, looking down at him with dismay. He looked up at her blankly, stretching his paws further out before him as he yawned.

"Mister Jingles," she said, bending over to pick him up. "How many times have I told you to stop laying in the middle of the floor? You know I never pay attention to where I'm going. Are you _trying _to kill me?" She buried her face deep in his fur and he purred contentedly.

Maybe she should feel embarrassed about giving her cat a surname, but if you were to take one glance at her apartment, you'd quickly realize that Harley has much more to be embarrassed about than a silly name for her cat. She still kept her old stuffed animals for Christ's sake. But who was she trying to impress? She's never had a boyfriend, and besides Eddy who occasionally comes over to check up on her, no friends. She had a family with those boys once upon a time, but the world has moved on. Eddy was all she had left.

Mister Jingles gave out a quiet grunting sound and tried to escape from her grasp. Harley shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. If the world had moved on, so would she.

She put him down and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge to find something to snack on. Harley tried to eat whenever she could. She was tiny, built almost like a small girl -If it weren't for her waist, like a small boy. Eddy was always the first to remind her. He'd comment on her weight constantly, and bring her fast food whenever he'd come around. She hated the stuff, but she'd shovel it down regardless. She always dreamed about having bigger breasts, curvy thighs, an ass... But she knew she was just kidding herself. She'd always be little Harleen Quinzel, with not an ounce of fat on her body.

She sighed heavily, shut the fridge, and grabbed a bag of chips from the counter instead before plopping herself back down on the couch. She lazily flipped through different channels, shoveling hand fulls of chips into her mouth. Again, who the hell did she have to impress? After five minutes of deliberation, she decided to watch the news. There was a world outside of her small apartment and the hospital she worked at downtown, and this was the only way she could experience it.

She didn't get out much, not anymore.

The newscaster was a busty brunette with perfect hair and perfect makeup. Her voice was sultry and forced, and she smirked and nodded at the camera after every report she gave. Harley snorted, annoyed, and folded up her bag of chips before placing them down on the coffee table. She'd clean up in the morning, but for now all she wanted to do was let her television lull her to sleep.

Harley could no longer sleep in her own bedroom. It was too empty, too quiet. The only way she could fall asleep anymore was by watching television or listening to music. She's slept on the couch for the last nine months, and the thought of actually sleeping in a bed scared her. It was the falling sensation. It was always so much worse when she was laying down. At least on the couch she could sit up, and when she'd startle herself awake before hitting the ground in her mind, -_splat_, game over- she'd open her eyes and a familiar face would be staring back at her from the TV. It was comforting.

"_U.S. stocks rose modestly Friday_," stated the busty brunette, smirking yet again for the camera. "_Yet optimism over upbeat corporate earnings has been tempered by signs the economy could be entering a slow period_..."

Harley felt her eyes grow heavy.

"_An Atlanta hospital notifies hundreds of people about possible exposure to tuberculosis..."_

Harley heard what sounded like chimes ringing in her ears, and felt a pull from her head to her toes. Her eyes closed. She smelt something metallic.

_"...There is still no sign of the criminal clown who robbed a bank in downtown Gotham last week..."_

Suddenly, she could smell him. Spice, cigarettes. Musk. Slowly, she felt her body begin to fall.

"..._Police state that they will continue their search. However, no fingerprints were left at the scene of the crime. Though they were able to identify the deceased robbers found at the scene, none are linked together. Police are baffled..."_

Then she saw him. He was up on the roof, the same roof where she saw him for the last time, and he was looking back at her. Regret was written all over his face, and he made no effort to hide it. She could see how sorry he was. How he knew he had fucked everything up. He looked away from her and started walking toward the edge. Panic struck her, but she couldn't move. Couldn't speak. She was paralyzed. She wanted him to know that it wasn't his fault, that it was hers, that she was the one who was helpless to save him. _She_ fucked up.  
_  
"...People are calling him The Clown Prince of Crime..."_

As he gets closer to the edge, she can't breathe. She tries to yell out. He doesn't turn around to look at her as he raises a foot over the edge. She can no longer smell him. All she can smell is something metallic, and it's making her feel sick to her stomach. The chimes she hears are maddening. She also hears a woman speaking somewhere off in the distance. She's saying something about a clown, but it doesn't make sense.

_"...He is armed and dangerous..."  
_

He looks back at her one last time. She hears the chimes, hears the woman speaking from somewhere far away, but when he opens his mouth to speak, she can't hear what he's saying. Her head is pounding. The chimes are so damn loud, and he's speaking to her but she can't hear a word. Then, without warning, he lets himself fall.

_"...If you see this man..."_

She tries to scream out, but she is falling as well. As she drops, her stomach rises into her throat and she is completely and utterly helpless.

_"...Contact police immediately."_

She jolts awake, gasping for breath until suddenly she is unable to breathe again. Her eyes meet his. Jack. He is staring directly at her from the television with those eyes that she could never mistake, never in a million years. They were his.

But the face was not.

She is looking at a clown with horrible scars, terrifying makeup, and Jack's eyes. She feels her heart drop. Is she so pathetic that she will actually try to search for his eyes in everything, including this monster? Her eyes begin to tear up before spilling over, and she feels her body go completely numb. Her heart is slow, and she can't breathe. Can you even call this crying? She is sobbing. It is heart-wrenching, despairing, and she is so pathetic, pathetic, _pathetic_. She feels alone. Her eyes are so bleary that she can no longer see, and all she knows is that she is crying, pathetic, and alone.

She gets up and grabs her phone off the kitchen counter. She doesn't want to be a bother, but she needs to call Eddy. She can no longer stand this loneliness. This despair. She tries to calm herself before dialing his number. After a few deep breaths, she calls him.

The phone rings three times before Eddy picks up. "Hello?" His voice is groggy and confused. "Harley, is that you?"

She can't say anything. No words will come out because she's too busy trying to contain herself. She is desperately trying to hold herself together so that she doesn't break completely.

She hears what sounds like him quickly sitting up in bed. "Harley, say something," he says. He no longer sounds dazed, because now he is wide awake. "What's wrong? You're worrying me for fuck's sake."

"Eddy..." She starts swallowing her breaths. She can't force out anymore words because she's sobbing again.

"I'll be there in ten minutes, Harls. Please wait for me."

He hangs up, and Harley lets the phone drop from her fingertips. She just stands there, sobbing.

She can still see him up on that roof. What he mouthed to her... she finally knows what he was trying to say over all that noise before he let himself fall.

_"You have to let me go."_

And then she begins wailing.


	3. Slow Burn

Author's note: I want to thank the people who are currently following this story. I know it has taken me a while to come back to this fic, but now that I'm back I'm here to stay. Reviews and criticism are always greatly appreciated, and love is the coal that makes this train roll! So review, review, _review_. Also, I will be putting up pictures that inspire the characters of this fanfiction in my profile, so go ahead and check that out if it so pleases you. Always nice to see a face behind the name, ammirite?

The Dark Knight and all its contents are the copyright of the Nolan Brothers and Warner Bros. I own nothing.

**Tide**

* * *

Chapter 3

"Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing." - Mark Twai**n**

* * *

Joker sat up in bed, startled, gripping a knife closely to his heaving chest. He'd had that dream again. The one about falling.

He quickly looked around the room. In the first faint light of morning, he could see that nothing was amiss. Noah lay on his dingy cot with his mouth wide open, snoring loudly with his arms and legs sprawled and dangling over the sides, and Croc sat flush against the door with his chin resting firmly against his chest. Joker knew he was only half asleep; If there were an intruder, Croc would stab them to a wall by their neck before his eyes even opened.

Satisfied by his surroundings, he set his knife on the nightstand and laid back down with an audible sigh. He couldn't stop thinking about the dream he'd had. For Joker, it was, as some wise man had once said, _Déjà vu_ all over again: He was up on the rooftop with Harley, and they were both looking over the edge of the building together. He griped her hand tightly in his own. After a few minutes of looking down at the city streets below, she slowly looked up at him with her haunting baby blues, her soft, pink mouth slightly parted as she stared up at him in complete awe. He was suddenly gripped with the insatiable urge to destroy her. Her perfection, her _innocence_, annoyed him. Her willingness to please and love him no matter what made his insides churn with disgust. So he let himself fall, his hand still gripping hers. If he were to fall, he would drag her down with him. He hoped to see her scared out of her mind, screaming until her throat bled, but instead she smiled peacefully, happy to follow him wherever he wanted -even death.

Before they hit the ground, he'd wake up. It was always the same.

The Joker groaned to himself, running his hand through his greasy hair before gripping a patch of it tightly. He had to get up. He was beginning to feel agitated.

He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him in hopes that he'd wake Croc up in the process. He knew that Noah was a lost cause; not even a New York parade could wake him from a dead slumber.

He looked in the bathroom mirror, turning his head from side to side to assess the damage. His greasepaint sat in patches over his pale skin, the black around his eyes fading into grey smears against his cheeks. The red on his lips had rubbed off almost completely. He realized that he must have been tossing and turning in his sleep more than usual, and decided that he'd have to wash it off and start all over again. As he turned on the faucet in the sink, a weary thudding sound ensued before water gushed freely from the chrome pipe. He put his hands under it. The water was freezing cold, and shocked his overheated skin. Before he had time to think about how numbingly cold the water felt, he cupped his hands and quickly brought the water up to his face, scrubbing off his paint job as vigorously as he could. Once he'd scrubbed all the paint off, he looked into the mirror again just to make sure he'd gotten everything.

When he saw his naked skin, he had to keep himself from punching the mirror.

He didn't want to toot his own horn, but he used to be quite the looker before Sam Rizzo and his cronies got their hands on him. There was once a time when he could go to any bar and pick up any bitch he wanted, but now that Rizzo had left his mark, he could go to a bar and _scare off _any bitch he wanted. Sure, he still got laid, but only by mob whores who got off while fucking a man with power.

Oh, and he'd _fuck _them. They wouldn't walk right for a month once he'd had his way with them. The mobs he affiliated with always made a point to try and keep their women from his clutches, because once he brought one of them home, he'd send them back cut up and scared, never really the same after the trauma he'd caused them.

He never felt bad, of course. These women were just as bad as the mobsters who owned them; sluts with no regard for anyone but themselves. He loved hearing them scream.

Joker was finally grinning to himself, his mood heightened by his diseased thoughts as he began to reapply his make up, emerging from the bathroom once he had finished. As he predicted, Croc was wide awake and Noah was still dead to the world.

"Hey, Boss," Croc said, cracking his neck to relieve some stiffness. "You ready for the big move today?"

Joker grinned, grabbing his shirt off the floor. He slipped into it and began buttoning it up. "I've been ready for this day since we moved in," he replied, putting on his tie once he finished putting on his shirt, tightening the knot like a chokehold. "This place never really felt like..._home_. Too small and cozy, if you ask me."

Croc laughed in reply. "I hear ya, Boss. Living in a tiny house in a small, quiet neighborhood is enough to make me want to go on some sort of chaotic killing spree."

"Hm, should have thought of that. Sounds like fun!" Joker let out a loud cackle, jumped into his shoes and ran over to Noah, kicking him in the ass from the bottom of the cot. Noah shot up with a yelp.

"What the fuck, man," Noah groaned, rubbing his behind tenderly. "Couldn't you have found a less painful way to get me up?"

"I thought about giving you a great big smack on the lips, but I didn't want to smear my lipstick. You know how long I take to get ready in the morning, _puddin', _trying my hardest to please you with my good looks. _So_, I figured a nice swift kick in the ass would suffice." Joker grinned at him, holding his arms out before him as means of a peace offering. "We've got things to do and people to see, sugarplum. Up and at 'em!"

Joker walked over to the door, swiftly turning on his heel to face them one last time before leaving. "Tell Eddy to be here by noon. If he's late, tell him there will be no payments for this month and he'll have to figure a way to feed _her _on his own." At that he left them, slamming the door behind him as he went.

Noah and Croc stared at each other and shrugged. What else could they say?

* * *

Eddy stared at Harley's sleeping form from the chair next to her bed. The sunlight seeping through her blinds contrasted against her light blonde hair like a halo. He hadn't slept at all once he had finally soothed her to sleep, his thoughts racing over the events of that night.

Once he got to her apartment, he found her standing in the middle of the living room, completely inconsolable, her face red and blotchy from the fountain of tears that would not end. He held her for two hours before she finally fell asleep in his arms. Sure, the events that played out were bad enough, but that's not what kept him awake.

She said something that really got to him. He couldn't stop thinking about it, and her words played over and over in his mind.

_"His eyes were just like his, Eddy. The clown. He had Jack's eyes."_

She saw the Joker on the television last night after her dream. She wondered how she could have ever mistaken the Joker for Jack, even for an instant, and the guilt and disgust she felt about her pathetic thoughts ate away at her like a cancer.

_"Jack is dead, Eddy, and he's never coming back. So is Tyler. Rizzo killed them. You found them -they were dead. So why can't I just let go?"_

But Eddy knew the truth, and Harley could never know. Yes, Jack was dead, but not in the way Harley thought. The shell Jack left behind is alive and well, and is currently wreaking havoc on Gotham City.

Eddy leaned forward in the chair as he leaned against his elbows, his eyes never leaving her face. Christ, she looked so _young_. She hadn't changed a bit since the first day he met her. She was the epitome of innocence, a cherub-like beauty. She needed to be protected. A city like Gotham would chew her up in an instant if she wasn't. So instead of blindly following the Joker like Noah had, he chose to stay with Harley to protect her from men like the one Jack had become. He only worked for him in order to help Harley out financially, but otherwise, he kept his distance. He lived on his own, and did the Joker's bidding only when summoned.

Joker had no intention of ever seeing Harley again. Was it because he was afraid he'd _feel _again? Eddy didn't think he'd ever know for sure. He still gave Eddy work and pay, and he knew Eddy gave some of it to Harley. Did that mean that a small part of him still cared for this girl?

Eddy's thoughts were quickly interrupted by the vibration of his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open. It was a text.

_Speak of the devil._

"Meet us at the house. Be here at noon, or no dough. -Noah"

Eddy sighed and shoved his phone back in his pocket, taking out his wallet in its place. He pulled out some money and left it on Harley's nightstand before he got up and left.

* * *

A moving truck pulled up to the house at the same time Eddy pulled in. One of Joker's goons stepped out of the car, walking quickly into the house.

_Better move fast, buddy, or else Joker might tell you how he got his scars, _Eddy thought to himself and laughed. There was no mirth behind his laugh.

When Eddy walked inside the house, he found even more goons bustling about. They started grabbing packed boxes and furniture, moving so quickly that Eddy had a hard time keeping up mentally, almost bumping into one of the meatheads before the guy told him to watch it. The guy lifted a desk over his shoulder like it weighed nothing and walked out the front door with it, shooting Eddy one last look before leaving.

"Hello, sunshine. So glad you could make it."

Eddy turned around and saw the Joker standing behind him, a shit-eating grin spread wide across his crippled face. Eddy felt himself shift uncomfortably.

"What do you need me here for?" He asked, cautiously. "Looks like you have more than enough help. I'd probably just get in the way."

Joker let out a loud tisk, walking over to Eddy before patting him on the shoulder like a small boy who doesn't get the point. Eddy shrugged away from his hand, annoyed, and the Joker acted like he didn't notice as he continued.

"You, Eddy, are here for the fun," he said, grinning even wider. "We're going to burn this place down, and I want you to throw the match. You've been such a big help lately, I'm just trying to show you my, uh, _appreciation_."

Eddy scoffed loudly, and was pleased to see the Joker's grin quickly turn into a scowl. "I'm sorry, Joker, but I don't exactly get off on random acts of anarchy. I'm not like you. We used to be like brothers, Jack, similar in every way, but now-"

At the quick mention of his name, the Joker grabbed Eddy by his collar, pulling his face only inches from his own. "Jack is _dead_, Eddy. Don't mistake me for that snot-nosed kid. Need I remind you that _I_ am the reason why you and that bitch aren't on the streets right now, _scrounging _to get by? Huh?"

Suddenly, Noah showed up and scrambled between the two, trying to pry the Joker away from Eddy. "Stay cool, for fuck's sake," he said, grabbing the Joker's arm. "What the hell is wrong with you two? Can't you guys stay in the same room for five minutes without trying to bite each other's heads off?"

Eddy shoved Noah away from him, his nostrils flaring as he pointed at the Joker. "Harley doesn't need help to get by anymore, _clown_. She's got a steady job at the hospital. I give her money on the sly so she can buy herself something nice every once in a while. Don't you dare for one second think that she still needs you in her fucking life. She's doing fine all on her own."

Joker let out a loud guffaw, throwing his head back in the process. Once he finally calmed down, he looked Eddy straight in the eye. "So then why are you still around, Eddy? Why do you still feel the need to protect the little _princess_?"

"Why don't _you_?" Eddy retorted.

Joker frowned. "If you want to get paid this month, you'll throw the match." At that he stormed upstairs, shoving away one of his cronies in the process. The goon let you a loud cry as he tumbled down the stairs, helpless against the Joker's wrath.

Noah watched him leave and shook his head. "Eddy, you get the Joker in one of these states and _I'm _the one who has to deal with him, not you."

"Why do you still stick by his side like a lost puppy? That man does no care about you. He's not Jack anymore."

"Because I know he's in there, somewhere," Noah said, looking down at his feet. "He needs me."

"Joker doesn't need anyone, Noah."

At that he tore his eyes away from his feet and glared up at Eddy. "You didn't see him when he escaped from Rizzo. He was a hot fucking mess, all cut up and bleeding like he was. He didn't speak for weeks. He just sat there, twitching, rocking himself back and forth. I had to force feed him, for Christ's sake!" Noah ran his hands through his hair, attempting to calm himself down. "Then one day he was gone, and all he left was a note."

"He left me the same note. He asked us to choose. It tooks me weeks, but I finally made my decision. I chose Harley."

Noah sighed heavily. "It was a good thing you did."

They both stood there in silence. Nothing more could be said.

* * *

Croc watched the Joker pace back and forth across the room, like somebody waiting for bad news.

"You alright, Boss?" Croc asked, curious as to what events transpired downstairs.

Joker stopped pacing and glared at him. "Some people are just so hard to please. You try to do right by someone and they shove it in your face. Little ingrates."

Croc shrugged. "I guess so, Boss."

Joker laughed. "You're always so poetic in you words, Croc. A real Shakespeare."

At that moment Noah burst through the door, throwing up his hands and grinning as he made his lavish entrance.

"The house is ready, Boss. Let's burn this motherfucker down."

Joker grinned and started to sashay out of the room, mimicking Noah's flamboyancy. "It's about time, boys. Where's Eddy? I hope he didn't forget about our little, uh, _deal_."

"He's outside, waiting."

Joker smirked knowingly. Of course he'd be out there, the greedy little bastard.

Before leaving, Joker, Noah and Croc kicked over the fuel drums that were strategically placed around the home, dancing around like maniacs all the while. Eddy could see them through the window, and felt a pang in his heart when he saw Noah acting just like the Joker. It was a case of Folie à deux, and at that moment he realized that Jack wasn't the only one he lost: Noah was gone as well.

By the time they emerged from the house, huffing and puffing in their deranged mirth, Joker pulled out a matchbox from his pocket and handed it to Eddy, bowing down to taunt him and he presented him the matches. "Your token of my appreciation, your majesty."

Eddy snatched the matches from him, and the Joker quickly got out of his way.

He felt his body begin to shake as he tried to compose himself. He needed the money.

"Come on, Eddy. We haven't got all day. Tick tock!"

At the Joker's sick mockery, Eddy shook himself to focus, lit the match, and threw it. Joker threw his head back and howled with laughter as the house quickly lit up, and Eddy slowly turned away from the burning house and walked to his car in a daze, his job done. He felt like he was outside of his body as he turned the keys in the ignition. What had he done? What had he become? Eddy didn't know if he was really any better than Noah. Jack, or what was left of Jack, was still a big part of his life. He was tied to him, whether he wanted to be or not.

Joker smirked as he saw Eddy drive away.

"Come on, Boss," Croc called from the moving truck. "We need to leave before the neighbors come out to see what the fuck is going on."

Before leaving, he pulled a picture from his pocket and unfolded it. A girl with blonde hair and a big smile looked up at him; a memory from long ago. Without hesitating, he threw it into the fire.


	4. Bubbly

The Dark Knight and all its contents are the copyright of the Nolan Brothers and Warner Bros. I own nothing.

**Tide**

* * *

Chapter 4

"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." - Andre Breton

* * *

If there was a hell, it was Gotham General Hospital. The big neon _Emergency _sign bathed the black asphalt and concrete of the building in a disconcerting reddish hue, and would momentarily flicker off and on before buzzing and settling into a continuous hum. Cries of the dying, the pitter patter of dripping gurneys and the wails and screams of the sick and maimed could be heard from the inside.

Harleen was used to it. In fact, she often welcomed it because it took away from the quiet, boring normalcy of her life. At first it took some getting used to; the sight of blood was enough to make her sprint to the bathroom before her body would begin to reject the food she ate prior to coming into work. You can never really grow numb to such things, she realized, but with time your empathetic nature becomes much more unsubstantial. It's like a switch you have to turn off and on, because if you allow yourself to feel too much in this line of work, you will literally destroy yourself. People die and the world moves on.

Harley was already an hour late getting off work- Paramedics had to fly a woman in by helicopter after her husband blew her face off with a double-barreled shotgun. The hospital was typically quiet on a Wednesday night, except for the occasional screams and moans, of course, but tonight it was alive with a flurry of activity. Harley nearly blanched when she was told she'd have to shove tubes into the woman's face where her nose used to be in order to enable her to breathe properly, but she quickly sucked it up and did what she was told, switching her emotions off for the time being. She had to keep her patient bent forward so that she wouldn't suffocate on her own blood.

When the woman began to choke out a few sobs, Harley softly rubbed her back to get her to calm down. "It's alright," She cooed. "Everything is going to be alright."

The woman simply groaned in response and tried to free her hands from her restraints. Despite how horrible it made her feel, Harley had to tie the woman's hands down once she was settled into her room because she kept trying to touch what was left of her face, but when the woman began sobbing again after a few seconds of quiet, Harley reached down and gently held one of the woman's hands in her own.

The woman tightly gripped Harleen's hand in return and grew quiet once more.

Once the woman's bleeding was under control, , the head doctor, came in and administered a heavy sedative. The woman's grip on Harley's hand slowly loosened. Once asleep, Harley gently laid her down on her back before pulling a blanket up over her sleeping form, tucking it tenderly underneath her body for warmth.

"You'd think that some people have never heard of the word 'divorce' before," said, jotting down a few notes before looking up at Harley. "Instead of serving divorce papers, that jackass did a real number on her. Either that or she had one hell of an insurance claim." With that chuckled to himself and clicked his pen shut before tossing the woman's files into a bin.

Harley smiled coldly before slipping into her jacket. "It's a bit too soon to be cracking jokes like that. I don't find her situation funny in the least."

scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. "You're right, . I'm sorry. You make me a bit nervous sometimes, that's all."

At that Harley turned to leave, but called out to her before she had the chance.

"Wait, Harleen. I'm sorry, really," He said, walking over to her. When Harley stared up at him, her blue eyes piercing his, he felt himself shift awkwardly."I know this may be a bad time, but I was wondering if you'd like to go out and have dinner with me sometime. I know a great place downtown. What do you say?"

Harley took a few seconds to respond. was an attractive man, albeit a bit awkward at times, but she didn't feel like she was ready for a relationship. In fact, she'd never actually been in a relationship before. She dated here and there, but no one seemed to hold her interest for too long. She never returned phone calls, never made an effort to see any of them ever again- It seemed like too much work. But when she saw the hopeful look on his face, all she could do was agree.

"I'll go , but please don't expect too much from me." When the words came out, she instantly regretted them.

His face quickly lit up, and Harley felt her blood quickly rush to her face. "Thank you, Harleen. You won't regret it. And please, call me John."

Harley handed him her card. "My address is on here, as well as my phone number. Give me a call after you make the reservations."

At that, she left.

* * *

When Harley arrived home, she started a bath for herself. All she wanted to do was relax before bed. While waiting for the tub to fill up, Harley walked into the kitchen and grabbed some cat food from the pantry. Mister Jingles looked up at her from the couch, sleep quickly leaving his eyes once he realized that it was time for dinner. He jumped off the couch and wound himself around her feet.

"Baby is hungry, I know," She murmured, bending down to put the food in his bowl. "Sorry mommy was so late getting off work."

Once Mister Jingles began eating his meal, Harley walked back to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes as she went. She turned off the faucet once the tub was full, and dipped her toe in to test the temperature. Satisfied, Harley slipped into the tub and allowed the water to consume her. She sighed deeply as she felt the water ease the stressed muscles of her back. It had been one crazy night. She wasn't sure how she'd been able to work through it without losing her mind, or at the very least snapping at one of the orderlies. Being head nurse was no easy task, and if anyone thought otherwise, she'd be sure to give them hell.

As Harley felt herself slip into sweet bliss, her phone rang. Her eyes quickly snapped open. She huffed and reached a wet hand in an attempt to grab her purse off the floor. Unable to reach it, she used her foot against the wall of the tub for leeway. After a few curses and dramatic huffs she was able to grab hold of the strap with her fingertips and drag it closer to the tub. She reached into her purse despite her wet hand and grabbed her ringing phone, flipping it open.

"Hello," She barked, unable to identify the number.

There was a short pause on the other end. "H-Harley, this is John. Is th-this a bad time?"

It took a minute for her to regain her composure before speaking. She felt like yelling at him to leave her alone, but the poor thing couldn't even speak he was so nervous. "No, John. You're fine. What can I help you with?"

"Well, I know you told me to call once I had made reservations, but you walked off before I got the chance to tell you that the owner of the restaurant was my brother," He said, able to speak more freely once he could sense that Harley had calmed down a bit. "He called a few minutes ago to let me know that Bruce Wayne has decided to throw a party there tonight, and apparently it's going to be a huge deal. I was wondering if you'd like to join me."

Harley had wanted a quiet night alone, but when she really thought about it she realized that every night was a quiet one for her. She never really did much, and a party thrown by _the_Bruce Wayne was something that most wouldn't want to miss for the world. Eddy was always berating her to get out of the house and "spread her wings", so she figured she had nothing more to lose than an episode of Married With Children and a bottle of Merlot.

"Alright, sure. I'll go." Harley tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible, but she was never really good at masking her emotions. She hoped that most people didn't take it personally; it was just her nature.

She could hear John smile through the phone and his voice instantly lit up."Great! You won't regret it, I promise. I'll pick you up in an hour or so."

Harley couldn't help but blush at his apparent excitement. "Do you need me to give you directions?"

"No, I'll let my GPS do all the work. Oh, and before I forget, the party is going to be somewhat casual so you can go ahead and wear anything you'd like tonight."

"Thank you for letting me know, I'll see you soon." Harley hung up the phone and...smiled? She couldn't place the feeling. She wasn't sure if excited was the right word to use, but the thought of going out and actually doing something for once made her feel a bit giddy. This situation would be one big unknown. Good thing she was feeling slightly adventurous tonight.

Harley slipped out of the tub and pulled the plug to let the water drain. She grabbed her towel and wiped herself down before wrapping it around her body, relishing in the soft, cozy fabric. She looked in the mirror to see how much work she had in store for herself. She never really knew what to do with her hair, so she decided to pin it up in a bun.

Now it was time for some makeup.

Harley grabbed her makeup bag and carefully looked inside as though something would jump out of it and bite her at any given moment. She never really wore the stuff because she didn't know how to use most of it. She knew that tonight she should try to make more of an effort due to the occasion, but she didn't want to wind up looking like a clown either. Her skin was nice enough. She had a youthful glow about her, and foundation and blush weren't really necessary, so she opted to spread a bit of nude shimmer to her eyelids, swiped on a bit of mascara, and applied a soft pink lipstick to her lips. Once she was done, she looked into the mirror and frowned. She didn't look much different than before, but at least she made the effort.

She shrugged to herself thoughtlessly and walked over to her wardrobe to figure out what she'd wear, yet another catch-22 for Harleen Frances Quinzel, tomboy extraordinaire. After a few minutes of rummaging around the contents of her closet, she sighed and fell to the floor dramatically. All she could find were scrubs and plaid flannel shirts. It wasn't that she didn't like dressing like a girl, but she didn't even know where to begin when it came to fashion. Anytime she tried anything even remotely nice on in the fitting room, she felt like a little girl playing dress-up.

She lifted herself off the floor and marched over to her dresser, opening one of the drawers before pulling out a pair of dark skinny jeans. The tags were still on them. She laughed at herself and pulled them on before she had a chance to change her mind. She buttoned them up, which, despite her thin frame, was a challenge considering how tight they were. She hated them. They looked decent enough on her, but Harley was used to wearing scrubs and sweatpants all day. They were _comfortable_. These were the exact opposite.

After she ripped off the tags from her jeans, she put on a black tank top and a pair of old black heels she'd purchased for her interview at the hospital. They were tall, but Harley knew she could use the extra height.

She quickly glanced at her full-length mirror to see if she looked at all presentable. Something was...missing. She grabbed a pink scarf that was hanging from her lamp and tied it loosely around her neck, looking into the mirror one last time for the final verdict. _Perfect_, she thought, twirling around in her new ensemble. She didn't look perfect, but for her this was ritzy.

After she applied one last coat of lipstick, her doorbell rang. Harley opened it and found herself speechless. John stood in the doorway with a dozen red roses, an awkward smile covering his face.

"I hope these aren't too much," He said as he handed them to her. "I couldn't resist. I saw them on display on my drive over here, and I had to buy them for you."

Harley buried her face in them, inhaling the scent. "They're beautiful," She exclaimed, her big smile mimicking his own. "Come on in while I put these in a vase."

John walked into her house, looking around in complete awe. "You know, your place looks just like I pictured it. It really suits you." He spotted a stuffed giraffe on her couch and laughed quietly to himself. Yep, just like he imagined.

Harley grabbed a clear vase from a cabinet under the sink, filling it with water before placing the roses in it. She looked up and saw him staring at her giraffe. She blushed profusely. "That's, uh- for my cat," She said meekly, grabbing it before stuffing it under a cushion.

"I see," He said, still chuckling lightly to himself. "Anyway, we'd better leave. Are you ready?"

Harley nodded and grabbed her coat.

When Harley saw his car, she nearly toppled over. _A Porsche Carrera, of course, _she mused. John opened the door for her, allowing her to get in. Once she was settled he shut the door, walked over to the driver's side, and got in himself.

"I know it was probably a stupid idea to get this car, but I couldn't help myself. After eight years of med school I figured I deserved something nice. I didn't really have much growing up, and-" He stopped mid-sentence, looking over at her apologetically. "I'm talking too much, I'm sorry. I'm just so nervous around you." He laughed, and Harley smiled.

"You're fine," She said as she patted his hand softly, noting that he squirmed slightly under her touch.

The car ride was quiet, but not awkward. Harley couldn't help but stare at him from the corner of her eye. He was gorgeous, in a slightly rugged kind a way. His dark brown hair was gelled back, and it looked like he didn't shave all that much. He was successful, great looking- he was _endearing_. Harley couldn't figure out what he saw in her. It made her slightly nervous, though not distrustful. She just wanted to keep her guard up.

John broke the silence. "When I say you make me nervous, it's mostly because you're so beautiful, and I don't want you to think that it's because you're intimidating... well, actually, you really are intimidating, but not in a bad way," He said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. "You're like an open book. You don't try to hide anything you think or feel. You're very real in that way."

_Did he just call me beautiful?_, she thought, and turned away from him to look out her window, completely embarrassed.

"You're also very unpredictable. You seem sweet most of the time, but you've got a side to you as well." He looked over at her for a second before looking back at the road, hoping that he hadn't offended her. "I'm not s-saying you're a bitch or anythi- well, bitch isn't the best word, but... Shit. I'm talking too much again, aren't I?"

Harley laughed and looked back up at him, regaining her composure once she could see that she still had the upper-hand. "You haven't offended me, if that's what you're thinking. I know who I am and what I'm like, . You don't have to explain yourself."

John sighed and laughed affectionately, rubbing his hand through his hair. He was glad he hadn't annoyed her. "We're here," He said, pulling into the parking lot.

Harley was breathless. The outside of the the building was beautiful, but the inside was spectacular.

The restaurant had that wild and smoky air. Tuxedoed waiters, exotic foods, laughter both soft and loud, hookahs with flavored smoke that laced the air with a sweet smell that made you feel almost euphoric- it was a decadent place in a city so full of decay. Harley felt overwhelmed.

The bar was beautiful, and instantly Harley knew where she'd spend most of the night. Above the bar was the biggest flat-screen TV Harley had ever seen in her life. As she looked back down at the bar to see what kind of people she'd be spending the rest of the night with, she instantly spotted the notorious Bruce Wayne with a glass of whiskey in hand. He surrounded by an entourage of beautiful women who were laughing obnoxiously at his every word. Harley felt herself inwardly scoff at the women, glad hat she would never be that desperate. But as she stared at him longer, she felt herself instantly drawn to him. The air about him was just as wild and foreign as this restaurant.

She felt John grab her hand, pulling her back down to reality. She looked up and him and he smiled at her knowingly. She shut her mouth when she realized that it was hanging open, embarrassed.

"You really can't hide what you feel, can you?" He teased.

Harley was about to make a retort when a loud voice called out to John. They both turned around and saw and man run over toward them, bottles of champagne raised above his head. "John, you've got to try this stuff. I just had it flown in from France. You'll love it!"

"Stephen, I'd like you to meet my associate. This is Harleen Quinzel, the head nurse at Gotham General."

Stephen shoved one of the bottles into John's hands, nearly socking him square in the stomach with it. He grabbed Harley's hand with his free one and brought it up to his lips for a gentle kiss, clearly drunk. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss."

Harley smiled softly as he let her hand drop. "It's very nice to meet you, Stephen. This place is beautiful."

"I'm glad you think so," He chuckled, then looked over at John. "John, I want you to meet someone. He's wanting to invest in this place, and the guy is a family man. You've got to help make me look good. This could be huge for me."

"Sure, I suppose" He said, handing the bottle of champagne to Harley. You go ahead and try this. Ask the bartender to open it up for you, and tell him that it was a gift from Stephen. I shouldn't be gone long."

Harley nodded as he walked away, a bit nervous at the thought of being alone in this place. As Harley made her way over to the bar she spotted Bruce Wayne sitting alone, his glass of whiskey still nestled between his hands. He looked deep in thought. Harley sat a few seats away from him so that she wouldn't bother him, holding her hand up to get the bartender's attention.

He walked over to her. "What can I do for you?"

Harley handed him the bottle. "Could you please open this for me? It's a gift from Stephen."

The bartender opened it and poured some of it into a glass before sliding it back her way. Harley grabbed it and thanked him, taking a big sip. She'd never had real champagne before. It's wasn't anything remarkable, but the bubbles tickled her nose and made her a bit lightheaded. She enjoyed it.

"I'll have what she's having," She heard a voice say, and when she looked over she noticed Bruce Wayne staring directly at her.

"I couldn't help but see you smile every time you took a sip. It must be some good stuff."

Harley felt her face grow hot. "I'm sorry, sometimes I don't even realize when I do certain things," She said apologetically.

"No need to be sorry," He said, flashing her a brilliant smile. "I think it's charming."

The Bartender Handed him a glass, and he downed it quickly. He didn't say anything after that, and Harley wondered if he had liked it or not. He seemed to be stuck in his thoughts again. Harley wanted to say something to break the awkward silence, but she noticed John walking over toward her.

"I'm sorry I took so long," He said, leaning against the bar with a sigh. "That investor sure loves to hear himself talk."

Harley handed him the bottle of champagne. "Looks like you could use this."

"I need to drive you home, remember?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and poked her on the forehead.

She tried to look up at his finger, jokingly, and they both laughed.

Harley hadn't felt such a silly show of affection since she lived with the boys. She felt a heaviness in her chest despite her laughter, yet she couldn't help but feel a small connection with him at that very moment. She was thankful. She hadn't laughed like that in a while.

John smiled and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "You seem comfortable here, so I'm going to go ahead and find a waiter that will serve us here at the bar. You stay put."

John walked off, and Harley kept her eyes glued to his back. What had she felt just then? She couldn't place her emotions-They were twisted like a knot in the pit of her belly.

She turned back around to face the bar and poured herself another drink. She looked over at Bruce Wayne, and noticed that his eyes were staring emotionless at the television. Harley looked at it herself and frowned. The Joker's face filled up the entire screen, and he was looking into the camera, laughing. She remembered seeing this video about a week ago: He tortured a man to death and threatened to continue his killing spree until Batman revealed himself. She looked back over at Bruce. His eyes remained fixated on the picture in front of him, and though she couldn't be sure, she could have sworn he was gripping his glass of whiskey tightly in his hand. His knuckles were white.

Harley looked back at the television and the night continued on as normal, as though no one else could see what they saw on that giant screen. It was just the two of them, and for the rest of the night, neither of them could shake an overwhelming sense of foreboding.


End file.
